


The Seeker & The Case of the Broken Heart

by vehlr



Series: AU: The Seeker [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have a problem that nobody else can help with? You hire the Seeker, and pray your cause is just.</p><p>Varric Tethras is given an impossible choice - lose the Seeker forever, or witness her death. And he still does not yet know why, or for whom this despicable plan benefits...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kiss Kiss...

**Author's Note:**

> And we're back...

Varric is a man who regrets much, but right now he really wishes he had not sent Cassandra out to meet a client that day.

If the Seeker had been home, he thinks dully as they force him to his knees - if she had been at his side then perhaps things might have turned out differently. Perhaps she might have surprised his blackmailers - perhaps she might have intervened with her fists. Perhaps she would not hate him. Perhaps, he realises with sadness, she would be dead. But he supposes that none of that matters now. At the very least, she was not here - she was safe.

He stares up, past the barrel of the gun and into the eyes of Bianca Davri. “What’re you waiting for? Do it.”

 

*

 

_Three days prior…_

 

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Seeker…”

“I will not!”

Varric groans, pulling her off the desk and into his lap. “Just say it and we can get on with our lives.”

She huffs, a frown marring her brow, and he rests his chin on her shoulder.

“ _Cassandra_.”

She shifts slightly, and he bites back another groan - for different reasons. “Fine,” she sighs. “I am... bored.”

“I _knew_ it!” he crows.

She smiles ruefully. “You were right. I cannot bear a full two weeks away from work.”

He grins up at her. “I could stand to hear that a few more times. Oh, Varric,” he adds, affecting a high-pitched voice in a terrible impression of her, “you were right! You’re so _smart_ and _attractive!_ ”

She laughs, shoving him before grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him closer. “You _are_ smart and attractive,” she points out in a low voice that promised much, and he swallows.

“Flatterer.”

“Only ever the truth,” she murmurs against his lips, kissing him tenderly, and his heart swells in his chest.

“If you’re bored, I can think of a few things to do,” he offers with a wry smirk, and she laughs, shaking her head slightly before she pulls herself off him, standing to stretch.

“I am surprised you have the energy,” she teases.

“You wound me!”

“I _could_ ,” she warns, and he laughs.

“Alright, alright. You want to get back to work? I have three messages from one person. Sounds like they need our help.”

“Did they say what was needed?”

“Naah. We can go meet them today -”

“I will go. You should enjoy your time off.” She smiles, stooping to kiss his brow. “Besides, you are probably sick of me.”

“Seeker -”

“Wrong name,” she corrects. “Not here, not with me.”

He smiles, reaching up to hold her hand. “Cassandra,” he amends. “I will _never_ get sick of you.”

“I know, but… it is nice, to hear it.” She squeezes his fingers before heading upstairs to find her jacket, and he leans back in the chair and watches the sway of her hips as she ascends, grinning.

Maker, but he was a lucky son of a bitch.

 

*

 

After she leaves, Varric busies himself with the formalities - their time away from work had not been without cost, and he spends much of the afternoon sorting out bills and contacting clients, following up on things that should have been dealt with in the week prior.

He cannot say he regrets it, though, the smile on his face difficult to shift at the thought of his partner - his lover - stretched out in bed beside him or pinned against the desk with that look in her eyes… no, he could not regret a second of it.

**Knock knock.**

“Come in!” he calls, and looks up -

The chill that settles over the room is palpable.

“Bianca.”

The woman offers a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Varric.”

“I’m sure you’re _real_ fuckin’ sorry,” he growls, standing up sharply. “Get out.”

“Varric -”

“You think I’m _ever_ going to forgive you for selling me out like that?”

“I’m sorry for what comes next,” she says, a twinge of desperation in her voice, and he frowns.

“What?”

Her eyes drop to his chest, and he looks down to find a bright red dot trained on him.

“What have you done?”

“The men who were blackmailing me are in the Coterie,” she says softly. “Word got around, and now they want us to play nice for them.”

“Us?”

“I told them I could… make it easier for them to get you to agree.”

He laughs, hollow. “You’re here to seduce me?”

“No, I’m… I’m here to destroy your life. And I really am sorry, Varric. But we need to make it convincing, or they’ll kill her.”

“Her?”

“Your human. The Seeker.”

His blood runs cold. “What?”

She crosses the room, pushing him down into the seat as she perches on the edge of the desk. “We don’t have a _choice_ here, Varric. Either you get rid of her or _they_ will. And at least this way, we all come out of it alive.”

“No - no, I can’t -”

She grabs his shirt, eyes flashing. “ _Varric_. Do you want her to live?”

Bianca leans forward -

The door opens, and Varric’s heart _screams_.

“I spoke to -” Cassandra stops at the sight of the pair of them. “Oh, I -”

“Varric, _darling_ ,” purrs Bianca, “I thought you’d _told_ your little friend already.” She flashes the woman a smile before turning back to face him, pulling him into a lingering kiss. “Whoops,” she adds.

He risks a look at Cassandra.

When she had arrived at his doorstep over a year ago, she had been a closed book behind a locked door - so impossibly private that even he struggled to read her, to find out where the real woman was beneath all the training and rules. Her time in Kirkwall had been good, even more so recently, and she had managed to let go of that desperate protection.

Which made watching her build that shield up again even more painful.

“Varric, is this - is this what you want?” she asks, voice wavering.

He wants to tell her, wants to scream, _no, Maker, no, I want you, I love you, don't_ -

And then he sees it - a tiny red dot on her chest. _Insurance_. He closes his eyes, swallowing.

“What we - what we have, it's nothing like what Bianca and I -”

Cassandra takes a step back, the hurt written in her eyes. “Bianca,” she breathes. “ _Oh_.”

“It's not -”

“I - I have to -” She scrabbles for the door, and he stands, meaning to go after her and damn the consequences.

“Wait!”

But she is gone with a slam, and the noise rattles through his rib-cage and sits in his heart. She would never forgive him, he knows her well enough to know that. Regardless of what came next… it was over.


	2. Heartbreak Hotel

Cassandra feels like she has been gutted. She wanders the streets, unsure of where to go - she had few friends in the city besides him, and even fewer she could trust with dealing with her right now. In truth, she needed someone from long ago, someone who was now dead. She  _ needed  _ Leliana.

She is surprised when she finds herself in front of a door, hand raised to knock. She pulls back, but the door opens regardless and a familiar face beams at her.

“Seeker! What can I -” Hawke stops, the smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

“I -”

“What’s happened? Where’s Varric?”

“He is fine, he - he is at home.” Home.  _ His  _ home, not  _ theirs _ .  _ I cannot go back there. I cannot go home _._ _ And with that thought, she cracks, a strangled cry in her throat.

Hawke looks terrified. “ _ Maker _ , Seeker, what’s going on?”

“He - he does not - I have n-nothing -”

“Of course you do, you've got me. What's happened?”

“I do- do not know w-what to d-do -”

“Shit, Cass, come on in. Come on, we can work through this together, okay?” Hawke pulls her in gently, leading her through the small abode to a sitting-room of sorts. The furniture is mismatched but comfortable, and the fire is already stoked as Hawke urges Cassandra to sit down, kneeling by her chair as she rubs her shoulder in a supportive manner. 

“What’s going on, Cass? I’ve never seen you like this. Did something happen with Varric? Did you two fight?”

She takes a deep breath, willing her heart to calm, willing her throat to relax, but the urge to rail at the hurt remains. “He… he has left me, to reconnect with Bianca -”

“HE  _ WHAT? _ ” Hawke’s rage is deafening, and Cassandra trembles at it. “That whoreson!”

Cassandra shakes her head weakly. “Please -”

“No! I’m not gonna excuse him for shit!” She paces, and Cassandra closes her eyes, reminded of Varric’s habit when he was working out a thought. “He just… let you walk away? For that bitch?”

“Hawke.”

“No, he hates her. He  _ hates _ her! Told me only the other day! Said she pulled a fast one and betrayed him, and -” She stops, snapping her fingers. “That’s it. He’s being  _ blackmailed _ by her!”

“Hawke,  _ please _ .”

She turns to kneel in front of the Seeker once more. “Don’t you see? He’s in trouble! He sent you away to protect you! Classic Varric!”

“He made it clear that he could not care for me,” she says quietly, and Hawke’s face falls. “He told me that… what we had, it was nothing like them. Nothing like what they could have.”

“Let me prove it. Let's shadow him for a day, see where he goes, I  _ know  _ him, I know how he feels about you - has felt about you for a long time. He wouldn’t do this - just  _ one day _ ,” she adds as the woman shakes her head. “One day. Let me prove to you my theory and if I'm wrong I'll never mention it again and we can concentrate on - on whatever you want to do next, okay? But let me _try_.”

Cassandra takes a deep breath - despite herself, despite the ache, she almost believes her, and a flicker of hope survives. 

“One day.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Hawke smiles, a soft thing as she pulls Cassandra into a hug. “We’ll get him back. We always do, right?”

 

*

 

The morning is cold and brisk, and Cassandra watches it come from the small window of Hawke’s guest room.

Every one of her strange group had left their mark here - a pair of earrings from the Rivaini, a string of prayer beads from the Brother - and if she cared to look she had no doubt that Varric’s mark would be here too. He had stayed over often enough. But she did not want to think about him in another bed, not today. She had agreed to stake out her home - her old home, she realises, heart tight in her chest - but she had little desire to watch Varric swan around with… her.

Bianca.

It made no sense to her at all, after everything he had told her of the woman, but she knew that a part of his heart would always remain with her. She just had never expected that part to…

Cassandra wipes away the tears, turning away from the window. Hawke thought she knew her friend. Today would reveal the truth, one way or another.

 

*

 

They linger outside the office all morning, waiting for a glimpse of either of them. Hawke subsides on bitter coffee, and Cassandra tries not to think of pastries served to her in bed with a wry smile.

Eventually, Varric emerges with a satchel slung over a shoulder. Cassandra’s heart wails.

“Just him,” murmurs Hawke. “No sign of her.”

Varric lingers in the doorway, pulling out a small packet of white sticks, shoving one haphazardly between his lips before patting down his coat for a light.

Hawke smiles. “He's smoking.”

Cassandra looks away. “I thought he had given up the habit.”

“Never took it up. Not really. He uses it to communicate - smoke signals,” she adds with a smirk. “My idea. He must have seen me.”

“What does he say?”

The smile fades. “Don't follow. Danger.” She swallows. “Goodbye.”

Cassandra watches as Varric stubs out the cigarette, not looking to see if his friend got the message before he moves on. “Danger?”

“Backs up my theory nicely, but I’ll await a final decision. Come on.”

They cut through the market, giving him a wide berth, before coming to the edge of a motel parking lot at the edge of Lowtown. Here, Varric meets with a burly man - surely a grunt if anything - before being patted down and let through to a room. As the door opens, they catch a glimpse of another face, angry and tense -

“Bianca,” whispers Cassandra.

“Is it me, or do they look distinctly unhappy about being in the same room?” drawls Hawke with a slight smile, though there is little joy in it. Cassandra supposes she too is preoccupied with his cryptic warning.

_ Danger. Maker, Varric. What are you doing? _

 

*

 

Hawke keeps an eye on him, through her team.

“Bela says the grunt is Coterie, and Merrill saw Worthy get snatched off the street in Lowtown. The two must be connected, we know that Worthy’s -”

“It does not matter.” Cassandra turns from the window, regarding Hawke with a sad expression. “Even if he is in trouble, he has made it clear he does not want help. He knows what we would do, and will expect it and counter us at every turn. He has shut us out, whether we want to help him or not.”

She slumps in the chair. “I hate that he knows us as well as he does. Stupid dwarven -” She catches herself, glancing up at the Seeker.

“It is alright. I know.”

“You do?” She rolls her eyes. “Of  _ course _ you do. Took me five years to find out, but no, I bet he told  _ you _ in the first bloody week…”

_ Second _ , she mentally corrects. “Regardless, he… pushed away with great force. I struggle to imagine how I might… continue, in the same way that we were.”

“You  _ know  _ he can't have meant any of that, Seeker. He's so in love with you, any idiot can see that.”

“I want to believe it.” She looks away again. “I want to believe. But he was… so distant. I have never seen that in him, never.”

“Bianca tended to bring out the worst in him.”

“And that he would choose to tell me that he and her…” She shivers, shaking her head. “I do not know if I can -”

“Cass,” groans Hawke, for once using the woman's name, “please, you _can't_ give up on him! He's an idiot, but he's  _ your _ idiot. He loves you without reserve - I  _ know _ that, I  _ know _ this is all just a cover for something terrible and he's trying to protect you. I know.”

Cassandra breathes in deeply. “He knows what I am capable of, what I have lost. That he would choose to hurt me just to shield me… it is like he does not know me at all.” And with that, she curls into the chair opposite Hawke, losing herself to thought.


	3. An Honest Face

Varric stubs out a cigarette - _danger, danger, stop_ \- and shuffles back into the motel room, locking the door behind him. He knew Fenris would understand the message, but Hawke's determination was starting to worry him. The last thing he needed was to get her involved in Coterie business, with her reputation.

“You still smoke?” Bianca asks, and he looks up to find her watching him from the bathroom doorway.

“When I'm stressed,” he mutters, shrugging off his coat. “Damn sure this qualifies.”

“I'm sorry,” she says again, but even he can tell she is less genuine with her words these days. “If there had been any other way -”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves her off before pulling a bundle of notes from his satchel.

“What's that? Writing your memoirs?” she teases, crawling onto the bed as her hands slide over his shoulders. He closes his eyes, and he can almost pretend she is taller, kinder, his strong and gorgeous Cassandra -

“Letters,” he says finally. “Goodbyes.”

She laughs. “Running away after all this?”

Now it is his turn to laugh, a bitter noise that cuts the room. “Doubt I'm going anywhere,” he says quietly. He was under no pretense that they would dispose of him as soon as his services were no longer required. But he wanted the chance to apologise, to tell Cassandra the truth - and to tell her he loved her, completely and truly, one last time.

Bianca says nothing for a long moment, sliding away from him as he rummages for a pen.

“They'll just destroy them,” she murmurs. “You know that, don't you?”

“Mm.”

“Then why write them at all?”

“Some things matter.” He looks up, meeting her eyes. “Some people matter enough to try.”

“I mattered, once.”

“Once.”

“But not any more.”

“You sold me out to save yourself.”

“You don't know what it was _like_ -”

“Bianca, I know better than anyone about hiding what we can do.”

She stills, eyes wide. “You _know?_ ”

“I can't _read_ you,” he says simply, “just like I couldn't read my mother. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out.”

“You never said -”

“Was never a point.” He shrugs. “Your secret, after all.”

“But you're going to _die._ And you… you'd still keep it? For me?”

He stares at her, surprised. “Not for _you,_ no. If they even believed me, I'm a dead man anyway. At least this way, the Seeker gets spared. S’all that matters.”

She shoves him. “You stupid idiot,” she whispers, “you and your stupid humans. Why is it always _them?_ ”

“They don't lie like you do,” he says dully, and turns his gaze back to the papers in his hands as she storms off into the bathroom once more.

 

*

 

In the morning, men come for him.

Varric is thrust from the small couch onto the floor by one of the Coterie enforcers.

“Dress,” he grunts.

Varric shakes the sleep from his head. “Seeing as you asked so nicely,” he grumbles, reaching for a shirt. “I take it my services are required?”

But the man says nothing more, moving outside to await him. Varric notes a distinct lack of earpiece - that was something, at least. His Gift was not common knowledge, not enough for them to safeguard their men. It was probably only Bianca and the man in charge who were aware of the truth. Not for the first time, Varric wonders who it is pulling the strings.

From the bed, he can feel her staring.

“Who is it?” he asks, lacing up his boots.

“Him? No idea.”

“You know what I meant.”

She pulls the covers close, looking out the window. “You'd better hurry,” she says quietly, hand dropping to the long chain around her neck. “He doesn't like to wait.”

 

*

 

In the basement of an abandoned building in Lowtown, Varric is shoved to his knees.

“Varric Tethras,” greets an unfamiliar voice. “How wonderful it is to finally meet you. Bianca’s told me _so_ much about you.”

“I’m sure.” He watches as the man emerges from the shadows - a normal sort of dwarf, smartly dressed and beard well-trimmed, he could have been anyone in the street but the for glint in his eye.

“I understand you know my associate, Worthy.” He gestures behind him to reveal Worthy, trussed up on a meat hook, legs dangling and blood already dripping from what looked like extensive torture techniques. The man’s face is nearly unrecognisable from the beatings.

“Looking good, Worthy.”

The dwarf sputters and shakes, and Varric hopes that is a laugh.

Their unnamed companion laughs too. “Varric, I assume you know why I wanted you here. My associate has been shipping some important cargo for me, and I do not trust him to tell me the truth about whether he knows what it is. Discretion is very important to me.” He smiles thinly. “Worthy, I will not ask again. Did you investigate the cargo?”

Worthy spits out a mouthful of blood. “No. Bad for business.”

Varric closes his eyes for a brief moment. _Oh, Worthy_ _._ He wanted to lie, wanted to save the man who could drink him under the table and still laugh about it the next morning - but he knew that the man already _knew ._

The man looks to him, and he shakes his head an inch. An _inch_.

BANG.

Varric watches the light in Worthy’s eyes go out. He owes him that much.

The man wipes his hands on a handkerchief, smiling. “I appreciate your help, Varric. I have a few more associates to talk to, and then our business will be concluded. But, given that you've been so helpful, I'd like to show you what is worth protecting so stringently.”

The grunt on his arm lets go, and Varric cautiously steps forward as the man beckons him towards one of the crates, opening it slowly.

“Do you know what this is?”

Varric’s eyes widen, the eerie red glow sending sheer horror through him.

“No… no, you don’t know what you’re messing with here. You can’t -”

“Ah, yes, Bianca told me your brother was intimately familiar with its effects.”

He stares up at the man, his blood running cold. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Well, that’s up to my master. See, I’m just a clean-up guy.” He lets the lid slam down, dusting his hands off. “But you’ll get the chance to ask again, once our business is concluded.”

Two hands grasp at his shoulders. Panic rises in him. He had to warn them, had to let them know -

He tears out of their grip, punching out at key nerve points and sending the men tumbling to the floor as he makes a break for the warehouse door. _Please - please, don’t have given up on me yet - yes!_

He can see the familiar white hair of Fenris across the street, his head perking up at the sight of Varric.

“Fenris! Warn them!”

From behind, two men grab him, and he rails at them as he shouts before being dragged back inside.

“It’s red lyrium!”


	4. Red Flag

Cassandra exists in Hawke’s home.

She cannot truthfully say she is living, her heart in limbo as it is. She wants to have faith, wants to believe in him as she always has, but his actions had betrayed his faith in her and shaken the core elements of their partnership.

Her hand lightly strokes the leather jacket that had become as a second skin to her. It had been a gift - the first of many from him, a lifeline into a life she did not think she could ever have.

“You fool,” she murmurs, “you damned fool.”

“Talking to the jacket or yourself, there, Seeker?”

She looks up, smiling weakly at the woman in the doorway. “Truthfully, I do not know.”

“It’ll be alright. You’ll be alright. You’re strong. He always said you were the strongest person he knew.”

She shakes her head slightly. “He always was good at lying, then.” Hawke raises an eyebrow, and Cassandra lets out a sigh. “When I came here, I was… hollow. I had lost much, and I did not want to feel again. And then I met Varric, and…” She swallows. “He switched the lights back on, one at a time. He respected my privacy, never pushed, never asked. He took great care of me, and I finally thought that we - that _I_... _could_ feel again. And now it is like he has simply smashed the bulbs and I - I am burning out.”

“You’re not.” Hawke sits at the table opposite her. “You’re alive. You’re getting misty-eyed over a _jacket_ , for Andraste’s sake, your lights are definitely still on.”

Cassandra manages a smile at that. “You are… much kinder than I gave you credit for. I am sorry for misjudging you.”

“And you’re a lot less stoic and buttoned up than I thought you were,” teases the woman. “You don’t have to live your life planned to the second. Be a little reckless, and roll with the punches.”

“I _do_ aim for stoic, usually.”

Hawke laughs, but it does not linger. “Listen, remember I said that Worthy had been taken yesterday?”

“You thought it was linked to the Coterie, yes?”

“I know it was. Aveline just called me, and she says they just found Worthy’s body floating in the docks. He was wearing his damned signet ring, that’s the only way they could identify him.”

“Maker’s breath,” breathes the Seeker. “Did she say -”

A loud thump at the back door makes them both jump, but before Cassandra can reach for her weapon, a familiar face pushes the door open.

Hawke sighs in relief. “Fenris!”

The elf leans heavily against the door. “There was an incident. Worthy may be -”

“Word’s getting out, Aveline called me. What happened? What about -”

“Varric lives, but they have him once more. He managed to pass on a message, though I imagine he will pay dearly for it, as they sent twenty after me to silence me.” His tattoos flare, his bloodied hand raised. “I managed.”

“What was the message?” asks Cassandra.

“That they have red lyrium.”

Hawke swears, pushing back from the table. “No. No, not again.”

“Again?” The Seeker raises an eyebrow. “What is this… red lyrium? I know of the substance in only one form.”

“Red lyrium is its bad cousin. We, ah…” She stops. “Fenris, if you need to -”

“I will be upstairs if you need me,” he murmurs, and she offers him a grateful smile as he leaves before turning back to the Seeker.

“Back before Kirkwall was ripped in two, when Varric used to run with us, we had a contract to find out what had happened to some locals. Good folk, working in the mines by Sundermount. So I take Varric and Fenris and my brother, and we go and check it out. Turns out they found a connection to the Deep Roads there.”

Cassandra takes in a sharp breath. The Deep Roads - legendary dwarven tunnels built centuries ago, all but forgotten by anyone but the most determined treasure hunters and thrillseekers. Few entrances remained outside of the dwarven capital Orzammar, and Cassandra herself had never been down there. But she knew of the stories - men of every race, corrupted by some foul sickness, killing anyone who dared bring torchlight to their domain. The spawn of darkness, some said. Others still said they were just stories.

“Well,” continues Hawke, with a grim look in her eyes, “the place was pretty quiet, and we found nothing to suggest they were even still there, but then I got a little… interested, and opened this huge door, and found a room filled with treasure. The real deal - relics, gold, jewels of every colour… it was like all my Satinalias in one. And so I tell Varric to radio his brother on the surface, see if we can get an excavation team organised.”

“His brother?” Cassandra holds a hand up, shaking her head. “Varric does not _have_ -”

“He did.”

“Did?”

“Yeah. Bartrand Tethras. He was… before, I mean, he was alright. A little too driven for me, really. He didn’t much care for my operation. But if we needed extra men, he’d always back our play. He kept the family business going - you know those traditional dwarven types.” She sighs, slumping in her chair. “A good man, once.”

Cassandra reaches across the table, her hand light on Hawke’s. “You do not have to tell me.”

“I have to tell _someone_ ,” she says with a wan smile, taking her hand and squeezing softly. “We don’t… talk about it. Ever. It’s like a bad dream, most of the time. And then I notice the scar on my shoulder, and I remember.”

She takes a deep breath.

“Bartrand brought men, and we started sending treasure up, but then the brothers found a cavity in the wall with this… red stone. It felt strange, like a headache in physical form. I didn’t give it much thought, with all the gold we had at our hands, but… Bartrand and Varric always had it close by. And then Bartrand left, and the door closed behind him, and Varric knew. He just _knew_ it was locked.”

“He _locked_ it? He trapped you underground?”

“We were kings of our domain, in a sense. But we thought...” She looks tired. Cassandra squeezes her hand. “Varric was so _angry_. I mean, I’ve seen him blow a gasket before, but this was… he was terrified and angry like I’ve never seen before, and I - I thought we were going to _die_ down there, in the dark. But I forgot we had Fenris.” She smiles suddenly. “He’s, ah… gifted, as you might have noticed. He reached into the door, shattered the lock, and we took what we could carry and got out of there… but by then we were bait for _them_.”

“Darkspawn,” whispers Cassandra.

“I had a few tricks up my sleeve, blew the caverns to hell, and we got out alive… just about. But my baby brother wasn’t - wasn’t so lucky.”

“I am sorry. Losing a brother is… hard. I know this well.” Anthony comes to mind, and she imagines him being taken by those that dwelled underground, shivering at the thought.

Hawke nods and swallows, before continuing. “We hunted down Bartrand - took a few months, he went to ground. But when we found him… shit, Cass, he was a wreck. Paranoid, jumpy, hearing voices… he attacked us, he thought we were _demons_. And when we managed to subdue him… there wasn’t anything of Bartrand left there. He was a shell.”

Cassandra swallows, thinking of Varric - so full of life, even at his grumpiest. She cannot imagine the grief of losing someone still alive in such a way.

“Bartrand died about a month before you rolled into town. Shook Varric up more than he’d ever admit. You were good for him - someone he could save, at first, and then you were more than that.” She smiles. “ _He_ should be telling you this. He loves you, you know.”

“I know that he did,” she says, “but now I realise I… did not really know anything about him.” She takes in a deep breath, shaking the thought from her mind. “What of the red lyrium?”

“We destroyed that rock, Varric saw to it personally. But the idea of there being more out there was something we knew we couldn’t deal with alone. He said he knew someone with enough leverage to make sure the mines got shut down for good. Only one other person knew about where the red lyrium was found. Only one person could have set up an excavation operation with the resources necessary, and brought in the Coterie as security. Only one person could be pulling the strings here.”

Cassandra’s heart drops. “Oh. I see where this trail leads.”

“Yeah.” Hawke rakes a hand through her hair. “Bianca.”

“She truly is blackmailing him. But to what end?”

“First guess would be his Gift. Though why she needs that _now_ … I mean, she’s always _known_ about it…”

“She… she has?” Cassandra swallows. “Was it her who betrayed him to the Elder Ones?”

“Shit.” Hawke pales. “Shit, what if she’s still working for them? What if they’re out for revenge after what _we_ did to their operation?”

“We have put him in harm’s way.”

“We saved his ass -”

“Hawke.” Cassandra stands putting on the jacket once more. “We have to stop her. We have to save him.”

“But how?”

“I am… not sure. For once, I am thinking a little recklessly.”

Hawke laughs, a sharp noise. “That’s my girl.”

“But you might want to get your red face paint on…”


	5. ... Bang Bang

He wakes up in handcuffs.

Varric can tell from the smell of the place that he is in a Coterie stronghold in Darktown. After a long night of condemning small-time crooks and merchants - _friends,_ he thinks, _we were friends once, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry_ \- he had been transported to his current dwellings and left to the dawn. Exhaustion had come swiftly, after such a long time of using the Gift.

The man had promised him answers, before the end. That thought rouses him from the dusty cobwebs of sleep.

“If you behave,” comes the now-familiar voice of the man, “you’ll get your answers. Try and defy us, and we’ll kill you. Understand?”

He nods, and from the shadows someone steps forward to remove the cuffs.

“He’s quite spirited, I’ll give him that.”

“He always was, darling.”

Varric closes his eyes. _No. No, Maker, please, tell me it isn’t_ -

But Bianca trails light fingers over his shoulders as she circles him. “You should have seen him in his prime. We could have had it all, but for details.”

“You -” His voice cracks, and she sighs softly.

“Oh, _Varric_. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Why?” he croaks.

“Where do I begin?” She pulls him to his feet. “Bartrand was the start. He was sick, but he had potential. And you destroyed the only material I had to work with… or, at least, most of it.” Pulling gently on the chain around her neck, she reveals a sizable chunk of red lyrium. “It sang to me,” she murmurs, eyes fixed on it. “It sang, and I followed the song. It took a long time, but I found… oh, _Varric_ , I found wonders you could not _believe_. I found red lyrium, so much of it, and I found _him_.”

“Him?”

“The Elder One.”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“He showed me what was coming, and how I could help. And so I did. I brought him the boy, lured him to my master, and my men made him forget -”

“ _You_ did that to Myra’s brother? To Myra and me?”

“You _interfered_ , Varric. I had my orders, just as I do now.” Her eyes snap back into focus, and she pulls out her gun. “Bogdan?”

The man in the suit smiles. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” She shoots him between the eyes, and he falls to the floor with a deathly stare. She does not stop there, taking out everyone in the room with a serene calmness, before reloading her gun with a hum.

Varric falls to his knees before Bianca, the cold floor sending a slow chill through him. This was it, he realises. This was the end. He had underestimated Bianca from the start - perhaps even from the day they met, all those years ago. He cannot help the laugh that slips past his lips.

She tilts her head slightly, smile broad. “What’s so funny, love?”

“Hawke always said you’d be the death of me,” he admits.

“You and your humans. Why _did_ you always favour them?”

“Told you. They’re honest.”

“Liar.” She crouches in front of him. “You always lie with your words, but your eyes tell the truth every time. I don’t need any Gift to read you, Varric. You cannot hide from me.”

“Just get on with it,” he murmurs, looking down at the floor.

“So eager to die? That’s not the Varric Tethras I know.”

“If it shuts you up, then yeah,” he snaps, “I want you to shoot me.”

She straightens up, and the silence hangs in the air for a moment. Varric calms his thoughts, taking a deep breath. He had regrets, of course, but… she was safe. That was enough.

“You are so cold,” murmurs Bianca. “Did I make you like this?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“I don’t suppose it matters either way, does it?”

“Not really.” The gun clicks as she cocks it. He stares up, past the barrel and into her eyes. “What are you waiting for? Do it.”

There is a moment, a single second where he sees the light in her eyes harden. Typical that he could finally read even a part of her in the last moments of his life. He straightens his back slightly. _Could have done a lot better,_ he thinks, _but I could have done a lot worse, overall._

_Cassandra. I’m sorry._

**BANG.**

Bianca curses loudly, shoulder thrown back as a bullet hits hard. Her pendant flies up -

**BANG.**

The red lyrium shatters, red flecks pulling at the light. He cannot help but watch as the woman screams in rage. He knew of only one person who might have made such a shot. Turning his head to glance over his shoulder, he feels relief flood through him at the sight of the woman in the leather jacket.

_“Cassandra._ ”

She does not lower the gun as she approaches, stepping over the dead bodies with care. “We were not formally introduced,” she says, steel in her voice as she addresses the other woman. “Quite remiss of me. My name is Cassandra Pentaghast, and I am the Seeker.”

“I know who you are,” spits Bianca. “How _dare_ you -”

“I dare,” growls Cassandra. “Now put your weapon down or I will put _you_ down.”

For a moment, Bianca looks like she might try it anyway, but her eyes fall to the shards on the floor and she drops the gun.

“Are you unhurt?”

Varric jumps as her hand reaches to touch his shoulder, hand coming up to rest over hers. “I, uh - I mean, nobody's shot me yet, so -” He looks up at her with a weak smile, voice far shakier than he would like. “Hi.”

She smiles back, small and gentle, and he feels the first pangs of hope in his chest. “Hello.”

Bianca drops to the floor, fingers scrabbling for the meatier shards of her necklace. Varric takes a deep breath, and Cassandra’s hand pulls away.

“We have… a lot to talk about, later.”

“Yeah.” He pulls himself up off his knees, dusting them off. “Although right now I just want to celebrate being alive. I didn't think I'd be -”

**BANG.**

He stares at her for an achingly long moment, before his eyes drop to the wound in her chest. He can already see the red blooming through her shirt.

“No - shit, no, _please_ -”

“Oh,” she breathes, and crumples.

“Cassandra, no no no, please, _no_ -” He gathers her up in his arms, one hand cupping her chin and pulling her face up to his. “Stay with me. Stay with me, Cassandra, you don't get to die today.”

“Var-ric,” she wheezes. “Shou-shout -”

“Save your strength, okay? It's gonna be alright.” He moves, carrying her towards the door. “We're getting out of here, alright? And then you can go on hating me forever -”

“Shout for Hawke,” she gasps, hand tightening around his duster as her eyes close.

Varric hears the gun cock behind him, stopping in his tracks. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I'm so sorry. I never stopped loving you, not for a second. You believe that, right?”

“Varric - Ha- _Hawke_ ,” she whispers.

“Enough!” shouts Bianca. “Enough! Are you happy now? Are you happy to die with your humans? Because that's all you've won here! My master cannot be stopped! The song goes on!”

He takes a deep breath.

“You want to know why I hang around with humans?” he says, turning to face Bianca. “They believe in something greater than themselves.”

Bianca laughs. “Liar. You hang around with them because they believe your stories.”

“Maybe.” He glances down at the woman in his arms. “Wish they didn't, honestly.” He looks up again, smiling grimly. “But they're pretty good for _one_ thing.”

“Oh, don't you _dare_ compare me to -”

“HAWKE, NOW!”

The world explodes around them, and Varric curls around Cassandra as the ceiling caves in.


	6. Fallout

She wakes up to the sound of fervent prayer.

“… and I will _never_ take your name in vain again. Okay, I’ll try not to. Habits, you know? And, shit, I’ll donate to every Chantry in the Marches. Regularly. And I’ll stop trying to get Choir Boy – I mean Sebastian – to come to our Wicked Grace nights. _Anything_ , Maker. Just… even if she never speaks to me again, even if she wants to rip me to shreds… just let her wake up.” Varric’s voice cracks at the last sentiment, and despite everything her heart aches at the sound.

“Do not make promises you cannot keep,” she murmurs, “especially to the Maker.”

“ _Cassandra_.” Her name is whispered with reverence, eyes wide as his hands clasp around hers. The warmth of his skin, so familiar and yet so terribly missed, makes her pull away, and his smile falters.

“You are going to tell me everything,” she says quietly, pulling herself up slightly, “and then you are going to shut up.”

He swallows. “Right.”

And he does – from Bianca’s untimely arrival and the Coterie’s snipers, to the incident in Lowtown with Worthy, to the parts she barely remembers in Darktown. He fills in the gaps of the explosion – how Hawke had dragged them out of there, how they had argued by Cassandra’s bedside until they had cried, how Bianca’s body had yet to turn up… his voice takes a bitter tone with every mention of her, anger shaking through him. She wants to reach over, squeeze his hand and comfort him. But she does not move, not until his voice gives out and silence settles over them.

Considering everything carefully, she shakes her head slightly. “You should have _told_ me.”

“I know –“

“Shut up.” She sighs, running a bandaged hand through her hair awkwardly. “You should have told me. Instead, you broke my heart to protect Bianca – to protect a woman who ended up almost killing me. We were partners, in this but also in our work. You did not trust me, in that moment, to understand. To be able to help. And that is worse than anything.”

He nods, eyes dropping to the floor. She regards him for a long moment.

“Varric, look at me.”

He draws in a shaky breath, closing his eyes before bringing his head up to meet her gaze.

“Varric?”

“I know I deserve this,” he admits weakly, a watery half-smile as the tears start to fall down his cheeks. “I know I’m a conniving little shit and I fucked up, and I deserve every second of this. I just... I look at you, and I can _see_ it, you know? Everything I did. And it doesn't matter _why_ , because I still _did_ those things, and…”

“It hurts,” she murmurs, “and you have never known a hurt like it.”

“ _Maker_ , it fucking hurts,” he whispers.

“Would you do it again?”

He hesitates for a second. “I don’t think I could.”

“Promise me. Promise me nobody will have to go through that again.” Her forehead rests against his, her own tears building up. “Promise me you’ll _never_ lie like that to the person you love.”

“I’m sorry. Fuck, Cassandra, I’m so sorry, I’m _so sorry_ –“

“I know.” Her arms wrap around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I know. I forgive you, you conniving little shit. I forgive you.”

And he breaks, face buried in the crook of her neck, muffled sobs as his hands grasp at her back, the weight of everything bearing down on him. She whispers softly to him, words of forgiveness slipping through her lips like a sermon.

His breathing evens out, eventually, and he pulls away to rub at his face. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“I gathered,” she says with a slight smile, and he manages a weak one in return.

“Shit.” He leans back, rubbing at his eyes once more before the smile fades. “So, uh… what now?”

She settles back against the pillows, exhausted. “I still need rest,” she admits. “I doubt I will be taking on any new cases for a while. But the red lyrium will need to be addressed, when I am more mobile. I must repay Hawke for her efforts, and the considerable explosives. And Bianca is still out there, as is this Elder One. We will need to inform Myra.”

His eyes drop again. “Yeah. Speaking of work, I should, ah… I should probably start the paperwork. Split the assets and everything –“

“Varric, do not be ridiculous. We will still continue our partnership, will we not?”

“Seeker –“

She makes a frustrated noise, hauling herself up to pull his chin up. “That is _not_ my name. Not here, with you.”

He swallows, a strange look in his eyes. “I… didn’t think I had the right, not anymore.”

She lets out a soft sigh. “Varric. Have we not suffered enough for this? I still love you. You will have a lot of work to do to make this up to me, and it will take _time_ to rebuild that trust - for both of us. But I am not ready to lose you again.”

His eyes widen. “You – you would –“

“Yes.”

“But I was –“

“I know.”

He reaches up with a trembling hand, fingers light as they cup around her neck. “Cassandra,” he says slowly, reverently, “are you sure? Because I’m… I’m not going anywhere if you let me back in. I mean that completely – you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

“That can be your punishment,” she offers, “for everything you’ve done. I think it is quite fair.”

He lets out a shaky laugh. “You are… Maker, Cassandra, you amaze me.”

“Do not let me regret it.” Her hand runs along his jaw, eyes tracing the line of his lips. “No more second chances, Varric. I could not bear the lights going out, not again.”

“Never,” he promises.

“As long as we are clear on that…” The corners of her mouth turn up slightly. “I missed you, you know.”

“I'm sorry. I never meant -”

Her forehead rests against his. She is so tired of words. “Enough. Please, just… kiss me.”

His lips are hesitant, soft against hers, and her tears threaten to start once more as the heavy weight that sat between them lifts just a little at his touch. Maker, but she has _missed_ this. Passion soon overrides caution, her tongue dragging across his lower lip and his soft moan sending a jolt through her core. Her arms wrap around him, dragging him onto the bed with an insistent tug, and he falls against her with an appreciative noise.

And then he pulls back, hissing. “Ah – sorry, I -”

“You are hurt?”

“Yeah, my back's a bit cut up.” He winces as he rolls onto his side, facing her. “Nothing too bad.”

“When?” she asks softly.

“The explosion. It’s nothing.”

Her hands are light against his shirt, eyes following the trail across his shoulder. “Varric...”

He shuffles closer, head resting against hers. “It's _nothing_ ,” he murmurs. “Nothing at all, really. A scratch or two.”

“Do not minimise -”

“After what I did to you, I’ll never complain about a cut or bruise _again_.” He closes his eyes. “Don’t dwell on it, I’m fine.”

She hesitates for a moment, wanting to correct him, to tell him that his self-flagellation would not help them heal, but this close up she can see the fresh lines on his face. The exhaustion of the past few days wears on his already, and the sheer relief shines through his tired smile. He would wear the toils, regardless of her words, and for as much as she had been hurt, he too had suffered. Swallowing her words, instead she presses a kiss against the scar on his nose.

“I love you,” she murmurs.

His arms wrap around her, pulling her into his warmth. “I’m sorry for everything, Cassandra.”

She curls around him, sleep already heavy on her eyes. “I know,” she mumbles. “You can make it up to me in the morning.” She sighs, head resting against his chest. “Orlesian pastries and Nevarran coffee. Hot -”

“With cream and no sugar,” he whispers, “and a little icing sugar on the food.” He reaches up to brush her hair lightly. “ _Anything_. Anything you want.”

“No paperwork for a month. You must do it all.”

His chest rumbles with a weak laugh. “I can forge your signature if it helps.”

“And kisses,” she breathes, “lots of kisses. And you need to scrub your desk clean before I will sit there again. Oh, and you must apologise to Hawke for making her call you terrible names. I demand it.”

“Sleep, Cassandra.”

“Do not send me away again,” she adds, nearly too quiet to hear. “Not again. We are a team.”

He presses his lips against her forehead as sleep claims her. “The best team. You and me, Seeker. _Always_.”


End file.
